Do I fit into this newly acquired role, just so, death in the floods, they read me aloud in a cheeky way, tone by tone I dissolve between the years that have been given me. Just so I fit into the day before the storms, and thus I speak from behind the grave in amusing tones: approach, dear friend, I will whisper some grave soil into your ear so that you may turn quite cheerful from it. So you’re slowly cheering up, and we have yet one year before, in the maelstrom of centuries, in the male stream of their sequence and in linear succession too, we may in remoteness from history and everyday, somewhere in the middle, sit down somewhere onto the city beach in front of the hotel, in the middle of the sand, and get intoxicated on each other.